Duality Sept. 4, 2012
I remain conflicted as to how much she says or does is
conscious.
Sometimes, she seems
to have a dual personality, sometimes kind, sometimes ruthless, as evident in
the poem in which she spoke about clawing and the poem she took down about
trickling up, a confession of sort in which she blamed society trickling down
turned her into something she never dreamed she would be, and her response to
it is to use whatever means necessary to claw her way to get what she needs,
“frank” and (as she put it it) “un-adult-erated.”
Yet for all that, for all her street smarts, she remains
vulnerable, seeing herself as a Cinderella waiting for her prince charming to
arrive with the glass slipper she left behind at the ball, because as she put
it: “When it works it’s fucking spectacular.”
But as the last few months have shown, she does not know who
she can trust – least of all me, and there is a kind of panic in that, as she
needs allies, and yet as another poem put it, she’s been betrayed before and
should have learned to expect it.
Oh, what a lonely life she leads, trusting too much in the
wrong people, then trusting nobody when she is ultimately betrayed.
I am confused too by her sudden animosity towards me as
expressed in her last poem when I clearly did nothing to deserve it (or at
least not recently), leading me to question whether there was any softening in
the hostilities I thought I saw over the last month. Is it all duality, she
flickering between two or three personalities, angry then not, then angry
again?
Or were those moments when she seemed kind, when her poems
offered some measure of compassion simply traps to lure me into presuming
something that does not exist, her rage so intense that she would feign some
level of empathy when in fact she waits behind the mask with sharpened claws?
It is clearly best to retain distance and hope that rage
might turn on somebody else.
Comments
Post a Comment